There was a long pause, a moment of agony. I felt my cheeks grow scarlet. The nurse got to her feet very quickly and went to the bath chair.
“I want Rebecca,” repeated the old lady, “what have you done with Rebecca?” Beatrice rose clumsily from the table, shaking the cups and saucers. She too had turned very red, and her mouth twitched.
“I think you’d better go, Mrs. Lacy,” said the nurse, rather pink and flustered. “She’s looking a little tired, and when she wanders like this it sometimes lasts a few hours. She does get excited like this from time to time. It’s very unfortunate it should happen today. I’m sure you will understand, Mrs. de Winter?” She turned apologetically to me.
“Of course,” I said quickly, “it’s much better we should go.”
Beatrice and I groped for our bags and gloves. The nurse had turned to her patient again. “Now, what’s all this about? Do you want your nice watercress sandwich that I’ve cut for you?”
“Where is Rebecca? Why did not Maxim come and bring Rebecca?” replied the thin, querulous voice.
We went through the drawing room to the hall and let ourselves out of the front door. Beatrice started up the car without a word. We drove down the smooth gravel drive and out of the white gates.
I stared straight in front of me down the road. I did not mind for myself. I should not have cared if I had been alone. I minded for Beatrice.
The whole thing had been so wretched and awkward for Beatrice.
She spoke to me when we turned out of the village. “My dear,” she began, “I’m so dreadfully sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t be absurd, Beatrice,” I said hurriedly, “it doesn’t matter a bit. It’s absolutely all right.”
“I had no idea she would do that,” said Beatrice. “I would never have dreamed of taking you to see her. I’m so frightfully sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Please don’t say any more.”
“I can’t make it out. She knew all about you. I wrote and told her, and so did Maxim. She was so interested in the wedding abroad.”
“You forget how old she is,” I said. “Why should she remember that? She doesn’t connect me with Maxim. She only connects him with Rebecca.” We went on driving in silence. It was a relief to be in the car again. I did not mind the jerky motion and the swaying corners.
“I’d forgotten she was so fond of Rebecca,” said Beatrice slowly, “I was a fool not to expect something like this. I don’t believe she ever took it in properly about the accident. Oh, Lord, what a ghastly afternoon. What on earth will you think of me?”
“Please, Beatrice, don’t. I tell you I don’t mind.”
“Rebecca made a great fuss of her always. And she used to have the old lady over to Manderley. Poor darling Gran was much more alert then. She used to rock with laughter at whatever Rebecca said. Of course she was always very amusing, and the old lady loved that. She had an amazing gift, Rebecca I mean, of being attractive to people; men, women, children, dogs. I suppose the old lady has never forgotten her. My dear, you won’t thank me for this afternoon.”
“I don’t mind, I don’t mind,” I repeated mechanically. If only Beatrice could leave the subject alone. It did not interest me. What did it matter after all? What did anything matter?
“Giles will be very upset,” said Beatrice. “He will blame me for taking you over. ‘What an idiotic thing to do, Bee.’ I can hear him saying it. I shall get into a fine row.”
“Don’t say anything about it,” I said. “I would much rather it was forgotten. The story will only get repeated and exaggerated.”
“Giles will know something is wrong from my face. I never have been able to hide anything from him.”
I was silent. I knew how the story would be tossed about in their immediate circle of friends. I could imagine the little crowd at Sunday lunch. The round eyes, the eager ears, and the gasps and exclamations—
“My Lord, how awful, what on earth did you do?” and then, “How did she take it? How terribly embarrassing for everyone!”
The only thing that mattered to me was that Maxim should never come to hear of it. One day I might tell Frank Crawley, but not yet, not for quite a while.
It was not long before we came to the high road at the top of the hill. In the distance I could see the first gray roofs of Kerrith, while to the right, in a hollow, lay the deep woods of Manderley and the sea beyond.